Always the Bridesmaid
by BroadwayBaggins
Summary: At Sybil and Tom's wedding reception, Edith reflects on the scene unfolding before her and her own experiences with love. Could it be that a second chance might still be possible? My submission for the EAST Alliance!


_**Author's Note: Hello hello, and Happy EAST day! This is my contribution to the EAST alliance conference. Anthony himself doesn't feature in this except in Edith's memories, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! I've never written from Edith's point of view for an extended period before, so this was a challenge for me in more ways than one…hope it paid off in the end! Let me know what you think!**_

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Her father and his friends could say what they liked about Ireland, but there was no denying one thing: it was certainly beautiful.

Dublin had been crowded and bustling, like London without much of the gilded opulence of the wealthier sectors of the city that Tom no doubt disdained. At first, Edith had been overwhelmed by the chaos and strangeness of the capital, clinging to Mary like a stubborn burr as they stepped off the ferry and onto the crowded docks. Her hands inside her gloves had begun to sweat the moment her feet were once again on dry land. Ireland, at least as far as she knew, was a hotbed of political uncertainty, particularly in Dublin. The war might be over, but for Ireland, their fight was still in its infancy, and their future teetered on the edge of a knife. Tom had written to them before they'd left, giving them detailed instructions about what to do once they had reached Ireland and assuring them that it was perfectly safe, but part of Edith couldn't help but have doubts. They were two unmarried women, traveling alone (albeit to a place where they had family and would, hopefully at least, be safe) in a country that despised them and everyone liked them. What if they were seen immediately for what they were, upper class ladies of the English nobility, and set upon by revolutionaries? Surely not even Tom could protect them from those who might hurt them in the teeming streets of Dublin. Every corner seemed to hide a fearsome revolutionary ready to do away with them as the Russians had done to the poor Romanov princesses, and every voice could so easily be raised to an angry shout as they walked by. Even the River Liffey, which Tom had described once as calming and tranquil to watch as it flowed into the Irish Sea, seemed fraught with danger as they crossed the first bridge into the city. Her heart had stuttered in her chest as she had followed Mary through the streets, for once perfectly content to let her older sister take charge and lead the way. _Perhaps coming here wasn't the best idea after all,_ she thought as they waited to cross a particularly busy street, so crowded that they nearly stood shoulder-to-shoulder as they waited for the traffic to clear. _Perhaps we should have just stayed home…I'm sure Sybil and Tom would have understood…_

But once they had gotten further from the initial hustle and bustle of the city, Edith had begun to relax. They had arrived at the house of Margaret Branson, Tom's mother, and had quickly been swept up in a whirlwind of introductions as Tom's brood of siblings descended upon them. Edith still wasn't sure she had all the names straight in her head. Tom's mother's house, although small and weathered, was nonetheless cozy and welcoming, further inland from the busy harbor and more towards the outer edge of the city. From the second-floor window, Edith could see rolling fields in the most lush shades of green she had ever laid eyes on, and beyond them, the gentle slope of mountains and hills in the distance. It was peaceful, tranquil, a harsh contrast from the near-bedlam that the city had been. For the first time since stepping off the relative safety of the ferry, Edith allowed herself to relax on Irish soil. _It's not so bad here, really. I can see why Tom loves it here so much..why he and so many of the others are working so hard to set it free. Ireland may be a lot of things, but just from looking at it, I think it's a place worth saving. Just look at it…it has to be. Good Lord, if only Papa could see me now, he'd think I'd gone positively radical!_

Somehow, the thought had made her smile.

Now, she stood outside the church that had borne witness to the wedding of her little sister. It had been a beautiful ceremony, albeit small, with just the two other Crawley sisters and Tom's family in attendance. Even having forsaken the Crawley family tiara for a crown of wildflowers in her hair instead, shattering an age-old family tradition with little more than a smile and a shake of her head, Sybil looked radiant. Tom's mother had cried the moment the vows had begun, but Edtih's eyes had stayed dry until the newly wedded couple had kissed over the altar. She had never considered herself to be a woman whose life was ruled by her emotions in this way—prior to this day, Edith could scarcely remember the last time she had shed a tear. Now, though, watching her baby sister marry the one love of her life without a care to what their family and society might think of the match, Edith couldn't help but be overwhelmed with love and pride for both Sybil and Tom. Most people went their entire lives without ever once experiencing a love as true as theirs. Whatever Edith may have thought of the match on her own, there was no denying the strength of the feelings that Tom and Sybil had for each other. Together, they had found the one thing that so many people dismiss as fairy tales, or search their entire lives for before finally giving up. They had found each other, and today was the first day of the start of their new life together. Edith couldn't have been prouder.

As they adjourned to the tiny green lawn behind the church, where Tom's mother and sisters had set up a modest reception for the happy couple, Edith's thoughts turned from her sister's happiness to her own. She had not had an unsuccessful Season when she had been presented all those years ago, after all. Far from being the wallflower that everyone had expected, Edith had shared dances with many fine gentlemen, and even gone out walking with some of them when they would come to call on her. Yet nothing had ever come of any of them, and at the time Edith had considered it a relief. They had all been gentlemen, nice enough and with wealth and titles in spades to satisfy her parents. Yet Edith had known that she would never have been truly happy with any of them, just content. Perhaps Mary could allow herself to settle for a lifetime of nearly being happy with Richard Carlisle—Edith still maintained privately that rejecting Matthew was perhaps the stupidest thing her sister had ever done—but Edith could not. As childish as it may seem to some, Edith Crawley still believed in love, and she still wanted it for herself. Seeing her sister with Tom had proved to her that it still existed, even in a world ravaged by war that sometimes looked as if it would never be the same again. She had seen love for herself. Now she just had to find it.

As she stood there, a plate of wedding cake balanced in one hand and a cup of sweet lemonade in the other, Edith's mind found itself wandering back to the one man she had always promised herself she would try to forget. The man who had broken her heart, perhaps without even realizing it, those four years ago now. The man who she had not seen in so long it almost seemed as if their time together had been a dream, something of another lifetime that could not be hers.

The only man who ever could have captured her heart after Patrick had been torn away from her. The only man since then that she had ever allowed herself to imagine a future with, for fear of being hurt by so many others.

The man that, in spite of everything else, Edith knew she still had feelings for.

Sir Anthony Strallan.

In her mind's eye, she could see him as clearly as if he were right there in front of her. She could hear his voice, soft-spoken and always polite, straining slightly to be heard over the roar of the engine as he took her on that first drive all those years ago. Even then she had admired him, not just for his kindness but for his intelligence as he spoke so eloquently on everything from farming to foreign policy. What her sisters had found dull, Edith found that Sir Anthony's words seemed to paint even the most uninteresting subjects in fascinating hues. She could see him, his blonde hair slowly but elegantly turning to gray in places, the kindness that was always there in his eyes no matter what the circumstances. The way those same eyes had grown wistful and far away when she had asked about his late wife, proving to her that although the former Lady Strallan had been gone for so many years, he still loved her deeply. She thought of how shy he had been that night when he had informed her that he had something very important to ask her at the garden party, the both of them so nervous they could hardly speak without their voices trembling…

"Edith!" came a voice at her right, and she turned to see one of Tom's younger sisters—she was fairly certain it was Kathleen—grinning at her. "C'mon! Sybil's about to toss the bouquet!"

Edith quickly set her cup and plate down, allowing the Irish girl to pull her along like a rag doll towards where the others had already begun to gather. Was it her imagination, or was Mary hanging back a bit, not wanting to be part of this timeless tradition as the others did? Edith shook her head, taking her place with the Branson ladies as Sybil kissed Tom once again, the beautiful wildflower bouquet still clutched in her hands, waiting for the right moment to throw it over her shoulder and see which lucky girl would be blessed in love next.

Try as she might, Edith could still only think about Sir Anthony as she stood there waiting.

She thought of his kindness and generosity now, the way he had understood her in a way no one else in her entire life had, not even Patrick. How Sir Anthony was the only person she had ever known who truly looked at her, and not just through her...the only person in her life who Edith felt had ever really seen her. Her family certainly never had. To them she was just poor old Edith, always in the way, forlorn in love and unlucky in friendship and forever eclipsed by her sisters the same way she had been for her entire life. Like the old saying went, they saw her only as the bridesmaid, never the bride. Not true with Sir Anthony. She was not invisible when she was with him, not anymore. He listened when she spoke, and always seemed truly and genuinely interested in what she had to say. He looked at her as if she truly mattered, like he cared deeply about what she wanted to say. When he looked at her, she did not feel awkward, or plain, or overlooked as she so often did every other day of her life. She did not feel like the future spinster and charity case she knew that so many others, even within her own household—perhaps especially there, Edith thought wryly –saw her as. When Sir Anthony Strallan looked at her, she got a taste of what it might be like to be one of her sisters for a day. When he looked at her, she felt beautiful, desirable even...she felt like someone who was capable of inspiring love…

_My Sir Anthony._

"Are you ready?" Sybil's voice called out, startling Edith out of her reverie. The radiant bride turned her back to the women, covering her eyes with her hand. "One…two…three!"

She tossed the bouquet over her shoulder, and it soared through the air.

The Branson sisters giggled and jostled each other, each of them eager to catch the bouquet. Edith stayed put, content to stay in place knowing that the flowers were not meant for her. No doubt Mary would catch them somehow despite not even standing in range, or else it would go to one of Tom's more deserving sisters. No, Edith was not meant to catch the bouquet. She knew it, and they knew it. She could be content with that.

No one among them could have been more shocked than Edith when it landed in her outstretched arms.

She stared down at the bundle of wildflowers, unable to believe that it had been her who'd caught them. Surely it had to be some mistake? She hadn't even remembered moving her arms to catch them, and yet here they were in her grasp. The other girls stared, apparently as surprised as she was. A hush fell over the crowd, all of them staring in disbelief, and it was Mary who finally broke the spell. "Well, look at that," she said. Her tone was incredulous, but she was smiling. "You know what that means, Edith. You'll be the next to marry, or so they say." She winked—she actually winked at her!—before moving to give her sister a slightly awkward hug. They were out of practice, the two of them, in being civil to each other. Perhaps that would change.

Edith blushed prettily, gazing from her sister to the wildflower blossoms in her hand. "Oh, I don't know about that," she said as Sybil rushed over to congratulate her as well. On the outside, Edith was sure she looked the perfect picture of uncertainty. Her mind, though, was another matter entirely.

This had been Sybil and Tom's second chance at a wedding, after she and Mary had stopped their near-disastrous elopement to Gretna Green. If they could have a second chance, then why couldn't Edith?

Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't be stuck being a bridesmaid forever. She was already beginning to compose a letter in her head, one that she would post the moment they were back on English soil…

"_My dear Sir Anthony…"_


End file.
